The Running Time
by MoIIuscophobia
Summary: After dying in a freak accident a scarred girl and her younger brother are given a second chance in Middle Earth. Follow Kyle and Rory as they try to make a life for themselves in an unfamiliar world, Will Kyle finally find someone to love her despite the scars that ravage her face? or will Rory finally find someone with an appetite larger than his own? BEING REWRITTEN
1. Prologue - The Running Time

PROLOGUE – THE RUNNING TIME

Kyle stared into the mirror; she was disgusted by the reflection that stared back. Her once fair-face, was ravaged by sickening scars that pulled her face into an irreversible scowl. The scars were deep and red; even the bright blue of her eyes could do nothing to detract attention away from them.

The accident in which she received her scars occurred when she was a mere child; no older than thirteen. Her life had ended that day, she had never been the same since, and she never would. She could no longer walk down the street without attracting curious stares and saddened glances. People felt sorry for her, they looked upon her like she was deserving of sympathy.

Kyle was pulled from her thoughts by the soft tone of her mother. It was breakfast time, which usually meant burnt toast and awkward glances. Kyle's relationship with her parents was forced at best, they were very protective and they were always scared of saying the wrong thing to her. Kyle felt uneasy in their company. "Kyle Honey, Breakfast is ready!"

Kyle descended down the stairs and into the country-themed kitchen. Her father was already sat at the table, his plate half full and his glasses perched on his nose as he read his paper solemnly. When he heard Kyle's footsteps, he dropped his paper and withdrew his glasses. Even her own father took his glasses _off_ to look at her.

Kyle took her seat opposite Rory, her younger brother. A smile grew on her lips as she watched him shovel food into his mouth like there was no tomorrow. He only stopped to look up at Kyle. "I see you haven't put your make up on yet?"

Kyle's Father, Henry scowled at his youngest child with the upmost anger, Esther on the other hand slapped her son across the head with a frying pan, the fried egg nearly landing on his head. Rory sighed loudly, and Kyle laughed, effectively diffusing the situation. Esther returned to her cooking, whilst engaging Kyle in a light conversation.

"Did you get a good sleep sweetheart?" Esther asked kindly, placing the charcoaled toast onto a plate and handing it to her daughter.

"It was fine," Kyle lied. She didn't want to tell her mother she had slept hardly a wink, Esther was aware of her daughter's insomnia and she had been demanding she visit a doctor for it for weeks.

"Oh...it's just...I heard you screaming again," Esther spoke accurately, "I thought you had another nightmare."

Kyle went silent; unfortunately her mother's hearing had always been very alert. Rory unintentionally broke the tension by performing a record breaking burp, it echoed across the room and bounced off the walls. Henry's brow deepened. "Would it kill you to have some manners Rory?" He lectured "You're at the dinner table for goodness's sake,"

"Sorry, Da!" Rory grinned before shoving a boiled egg down his throat hole with surprising speed.

Kyle finished her breakfast quickly, and excused herself to go upstairs. She threw herself across her bed and slid her iPod into the docking station. The music instantly burst across the room, and the melodic sound of Keane filled Kyle's thoughts. She breathed deeply as if in some sort of trance. Her trance however was short lived. There was a knock upon her door. Rory.

He was stood at the door twiddling with his thumbs, biting his tongue. Kyle shoot him a glare before he opened his mouth. "What is this rubbish you're listening to?"

"Keane,"

"Care to allow me to educate your taste?" Rory asked, Kyle shook her head hastily, but could do nothing as her brother placed his own iPod into her docking station. She grunted loudly as he chucked her IPod across the room with about as respect as he had table manners.

Kyle's ear drums burst as Rory's music blasted across the room. She knew the sound all too well. Her brother's favourite ever band. Metallica, she had never seen the attraction herself, a few songs she could abide, but as a whole she found her brother's taste in music very dull and overall, just a lot of noise. Music taste was just one of the issues they disagreed on, but with all the differences in their personality they still were inseparably close.

"Well Rory, this music would be all well and good if I was depressed from wasting my life on a video game," Kyle teased, earning a glare from her brother.

"I do more...than video games!" Rory protested, "Well...alright, look at it this way, if we ever become trapped in a medieval world I'll know how to handle a weapon,"

"Hm, if only," Kyle's eyebrows rose "Anyway, I'm getting you out of the house. How about a walk?"

"A walk it's pouring with rain!" Rory exclaimed.

"Yes, and? A little bit of rain never killed anyone. And before you give me some example of someone dying from a little bit of rain, your protests aren't going to change my mind, your. getting. out. of. the. house!"

Rory grunted loudly before retreating to his bedroom and returning with his jacket on, the wrong way around. Kyle, of course, being a perfectly considerate sister did not tell her younger sibling of his wardrobe mishap and instead allowed him to walk out to the street as he was. They walked toward the woods, a place where Kyle had spent a lot of time after her accident.

They walked, and walked. Talking, and laughing and joking. Sharing their problems and teasing each other. Finally they arrived at their destination. The edge of a cliff.

Only a tiny wooden fence stood between them and a sheer drop to hard ground. Kyle bit her breath as Rory balanced himself upon the tiny piece of wood. He always was a daredevil, some of his stunts would have sickened even the most daring of stuntmen.

"Rory, get down of the fence," Kyle yelled, "I don't want to have to tell mum and dad why their son's spine is bent at a ninety degree angle!"

"You always bring maths into everything," Rory rolled his eyes, jumping of the fence. It gave a sickening crack and Kyle flinched.

"God, you are such an idiot? You could have died?"

"I could die at any moment, at any time," Rory begun, "I could be hit by a car tomorrow or I could have a heart attack the next. Life is full of uncertainties Kyle, I'm not going to live my life running from danger for fear of death. If I spent my life fearing it, then I will not live at all,"

"Although your philosophical point of view is very admirable, it is also incredibly stupid," Kyle snapped. "What's the point in living if you're dead? Now, I think we should get back the rains getting even heavier,"

"And so is this conversation," Rory shrugged. "I want to stay out here longer. You can go home,"

Kyle thought for a moment. She watched the grey clouds roll in across the blue sky, devouring all the light and leaving only the familiar sense of gloom in the once bright sky. The rain poured heavier and a sickening rumble could be heard as thought it was from within the earth's crust itself. Thunder. A sharp spiral of light flashed across the sky, causing Kyle's vision to flicker. Lightning.

The wind grew so fast that it almost swept the pair from their feet, their hair fluttered amidst the breeze and Kyle lost her footing. "Fine, I think it's time to head," Rory concluded smiling.

Kyle grinned, feeling around her neck. She flinched. Her necklace was absent. Rory looked at her questioningly. "I've lost the necklace granddad gave to me..." She breathed. "I can't...I need it Rory,"

Kyle looked around and her heart gave a loud thud as the dog tag caught her eye. It was dangling from a branch. It was perfectly reachable if it wasn't for the one hundred foot sheer drop below. Rory didn't even think for a moment, adrenaline sweltered through him and he stood upon the same rickety fence and reached out to grasp Kyle's beloved necklace. Just as his fingers enclosed around the dog tag the fence gave a sickening crack beneath him. Before Kyle could reach for her brother, the fence collapsed, and with it fell Rory.

Just when Kyle thought all hope was lost she saw the familiar hand grasping the grass at the edge of the cliff. She flew forward and grabbed his hand, trying with all her might to find the strength within herself to hold onto her brother's hand. She was weak, too weak to hold him up. She stared at his desperate face, his eyes filling with tears. It only took one gust of wind to knock Kyle over, in effect causing both her and Rory to fall

Rory fell, plummeting to the ground, and so too did Kyle.


	2. The Mysterious Ways of the Hobbits

**CHAPTER TWO – THE MYSTERIOUS WAYS OF THE HOBBITS**

_"In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a Hobbit-hole, and that means comfort" The Hobbit Chapter One (An Unexpected Party)_

**E**verything was black. Rory could see nothing, not even one tiny little glimmer of light. All he could feel was the bitter cold on his cheeks, and all he could hear was the sound of his own heart as it beat must faster than it should have. He had never feared anything, to him fear was something to be ashamed of, it was something that held you back, but standing alone faced with sheer nothingness Rory felt fear for the first time in his life.

The last thing Rory remembered was losing his grip on Kyle's hand and falling, the wind blowing against him as he flew ungracefully down to the hard ground below. He wondered for a moment if he was in some sort of hell. He had never believed in life after death; however he had slowly begun to reconsider as he stood alone amongst the vast expanse of blackness.

Rory's heart skipped a beat when he heard a voice. It was too faint to be heard properly, less than a whisper, but it was a flicker of hope. Rory held onto the sound trying hard to pull himself nearer to it. It spoke again, this time it was a little louder, loud enough for Rory to able to tell it belonged to an unfamiliar male.

"His eyelid flickered I swear it!" An excited voice spoke. Rory breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't alone; someone was near, even if he could not see them. "Do you not believe me Bilbo?"

"Of course I believe you dear Frodo," Another more mature voice replied. "It's just he had a very hard hit to the head. I think it could be a while yet."

"Yes...It does look very painful," Frodo sighed, "I wonder what brought him here? He doesn't look like he's from Bree; his clothes are to strange...I think he comes from afar,"

"He certainly looks it, but we mustn't speculate before he awakes," Bilbo chuckled. "I'm sure he'll have much to tell us,"

Rory tried with all his might to wake up. He felt numb, and he was almost too tired to move, but with some effort he finally begun to feel the tips of his fingers and before long his eyelids felt less heavy. They were light enough to be opened.

"Bilbo he's awoken," Frodo exclaimed "Properly this time!"

"Ah...I think he is!"

Rory finally opened his eyes and gasped a sigh of relief as he saw the light once more. He stared around and found two rather odd beings looking carefully at him. They were both strangely short, and their feet oddly hairy. One was old, his hair greying and his eyes glimmering with many stories. The other was much younger, his hair dark and his eyes youthful.

"I am Bilbo Baggins and this is my nephew Frodo," Bilbo spoke, "It is good to see you awake,"

Rory's eyes widened. "I'm R-Rory, It is...g-good to be awake,"

"I should think so; it has been five days since we found you!" Frodo exclaimed, "You must have fallen and hurt your head, it was bleeding terribly and it took five of us hobbits to carry you back here and even with _five_ it was a struggle,"

Rory didn't know whether to be insulted or not, but he had more pressing matters on his mind. Like, where on earth he was.

"Where am I?" Rory asked carefully.

"Hobbiton young man! How is it you do not know where you are?" Bilbo asked sceptically,

"Hobbiton? I'm still in Edinburgh aren't I?" Rory questioned panicked.

"Edinburgh? I haven't heard of such a place but I can assure you that are not in it," Bilbo laughed weakly. "I fear you may have gotten lost during your travels,"

Rory thought for moment. He had fallen from the cliff, it was a high cliff and at the bottom was hard ground. There was no way he could have survived such a fall. He knew enough about Physics to know that anything that isn't made of solid metal can fall from so high and survive to tell the tale. He wondered if he was still in some sort of dream. He rapidly began pinching his arm in an attempt to wake himself.

"Why are you hurting yourself Young master?" Bilbo questioned. Rory breathed out.

"I should be dead," He murmured. "I was out with my sister. We were standing by a cliff...I fell off. Then I was falling, and everything was black, and then, then I was here,"

"And I thought I was strange, your rather _odd_ Rory," Bilbo shook his head. "I have not the answers for you Rory, but it does not take Gandalf to work out you are not from these parts. Whatever happened is strange indeed, but the world works in mysterious ways."

"I think I'm really far from home," Rory pulled himself out of the bed; only to find that Bilbo and Frodo were even shorter than he had expected. "I've never heard of Hobbiton before, nor was I near it when I fell from the cliff,"

"You were nowhere near a cliff where I found you either," Frodo speculated, "You were by a tiny little creek with your head laid upon a stone."

Rory took a deep breath. He looked at Frodo and Bilbo once more. He wondered if he was in a sequel to the Wizard of Oz, where the Munchkins had grown up and matured and there was no yellow brick road. Rory sighed. "I want to go home,"

"I wish we could help you," Frodo spoke, "You can stay here. We would not be good hosts if we sent our guest out when he is so hopelessly lost. Perhaps you will remember more of what happened over time and you will be able to find a way home,"

"I hope so," Was all Rory said.

Days turned to weeks and weeks into months into years. Rory was no closer to finding his way home as he was to remembering anything of how he came to arrive in Hobbiton. The young man however was not finding Bag End, totally terrible, in fact if he had been given a second life as something different, he'd have chosen to be a hobbit.

Rory was fascinated by the simplicity of their lifestyle and he loved how it seemed to evolve entirely around food. He could hardly imagine what his life was like when he had just three meals a day and he didn't want to remember. He had a daily routine that he kept to. In the mornings he and Frodo would sit out in the green talking to Sam as he gardened. By the afternoon Rory would join Merry and Pippin for a little hand-fishing or a spot of critter catching, and when it came to suppertime he would sit with Bilbo and listen wholeheartedly to the old hobbit's many stories, some of which Rory could hardly believe.

It was a Summer's night in Hobbiton and Rory's routine still hadn't differed. He carefully sat himself down on a chair. It was far too small for him and he was secretly petrified that it would break beneath him. His stomach let out one loud rumble and his host must have had good hearing as he heard it all the way from the larder.

"Are you hungry?" The voice of Bilbo Baggins echoed. "I have some Seed Cake that needs eating!"

Rory let out a weak laugh. "Of course I'm hungry Bilbo, when am I not?" He replied cheerfully. "I wouldn't mind a cup of tea while you're at it,"

"Since when have you been so demanding Rory? Make your own tea, the kettle is closer to you than it is to me," Bilbo shook his head placing the plateful of seed cake onto the table.

Faced with the prospect of having to leave his undersized yet surprisingly comfy seat to make himself a cup of tea, Rory had decided against tea. He took a large slab of the cake and bit into it as Bilbo watched him with mild amusement.

"You may not be a hobbit, but you have the belly of one," The Hobbit smiled. "Your stay here has left you with quite a stomach,"

Rory looked down at his stomach and he frowned. It hung over his trousers. He was fat. He shouldn't have looked so surprised; obesity usually came with excessive eating and lack of exercise. He cast Bilbo a frown, he had preferred it when had been blissfully unaware of his weight problem.

"I've never been fat in my life. You and Frodo are a bad influence on me," Rory grumbled. "My sister would laugh herself senseless if she saw me now. She's always saying how I'm a walking heart attack,"

"You miss her?" Bilbo asked.

"Every day, I was very close to her. We argued all the time, but at the end of the day, Kyle was the one person I could trust with anything," Rory pondered. "I wonder where she is? I think she fell of the cliff as well, I'm not sure if I'm being honest. Everything happened so fast,"

Bilbo didn't say much, he gave a weak smile in response. Rory often had a habit of saying the wrong things and destroying any prospect of a light-hearted conversation. The door opened and Frodo entered with Merry and Pippin close at his back.

"Hallo, Rory, Bilbo!" Merry grinned widely, the pipe hanging out of his mouth as he spoke. "How are things?"

"Perfect Merry," Bilbo smiled, "Shall I fetch you all something to eat?"

"Do you even need to ask?" Pippin asked incredulously, throwing himself down onto a seat, "How is our giant friend Rory?"

Rory hadn't found the term "Giant" offensive till he had realised of his weight gain. He had a sneaky suspicion, that the term "Giant" was not being used in describing his height, but rather his width.

"I am fine Pippin," Rory answered carefully "I was actually just wondering if any of you would join me for a jog?"

"A jog?" Merry asked,

"Yes, I want to exercise. It has come to my attention; I am no longer as fit as I thought I was. It is time I lost a little bit of my extra baggage if you know what I mean," Rory answered.

"We'll join you for a jog Rory," Pippin nodded. "Maybe we could bring a picnic basket and make a day of it,"

Rory took a deep breath. Hobbits did not seem to understand the purpose of "dieting" and he didn't much want to be lumbered with the task of having to explain it. He merely nodded, accepting that his stomach may continue to increase in size during his stay in Hobbiton.

Bilbo finally returned with more food and nearly as soon as it touched the table the Hobbit's had reached forward and grabbed as much food as their little hands could grasp. In the blink of an eye the food vanished, not even crumbs were left upon the plate.

Rory smiled, he loved his new found family with all his heart. But they were not his real family; his real family were far away. He missed his mother's hugs and nagging tone, and his father's wise-cracks and useless facts. He missed his sister's caring and accepting nature, and most of all, he missed his own bed. Rory had realised, that being away from home wasn't nearly as enjoyable as he had once imagined it to be.


	3. The Humming of the Harp

**CHAPTER 3 – THE HUMMING OF THE HARP**

_"All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us." _

**E**verything was dark. Kyle stood alone in the freezing cold; there was no light, not even the tiniest flicker. She felt her heart beat hard against her chest. Where was she? Kyle had a lot of questions, but no answers to them. She remembered falling from the cliff and the fear and adrenaline she felt as she plummeted like a wingless bird through the heavy wind. She remembered how the darkness engulfed her when her fragile body collided with the hard ground beneath.

Her thoughts were broken by the soft hum of a gentle harp. It's sweet melody echoed around her. The harp drew to a gradual end and the music was replaced by quiet breaths. She could hear muffled voices; they were faint; so quiet she found it hard to hear them.

"Is she well?" The voice spoke carefully.

Kyle thought for a moment. It sounded like Rory's voice, only softer, much softer.

"It will not be long before she wakes," The female voice explained. "She suffered a large blow to the head. We're lucky you found her when you did; otherwise I fear she would not have made it. There was internal bleeding you see,"

"But she will be fine now?"

"Entirely, Legolas, once she wakes up she'll be good as new," She spoke, "Well almost new, it's not like there's anything you can do about those scars, They are simply ghastly, poor thing has had to live with them for a while as well,"

"Do not call them ghastly Santiel." Legolas answered her curtly. "Whatever did it was ghastly, not the scars themselves,"

"Of course," Santiel spoke dutifully. Kyle heard footsteps leave the room.

Kyle begun to feel the tips of her fingers again, and finally she managed to move her thumb. Before long she had the strength and consciousness to pull herself up and open her eyes. She gazed around the room, the light burnt her eyes she could not tell if it was because she had been in the darkness for so long or because it was simply too bright.

There was a strange man at her bedside. He stared at her with the strangest expression and Kyle flinched, her automatic reaction was to cover her face, but before she had a chance to place her left hand over the right side of her face the man caught her arm and placed it by her side.

"There is no need to hide your face young one," He spoke gently; "My name is Legolas, what is yours?"

"K-Kyle,"

"Kyle? A strange name, for a strangely clad woman. Tell me, where are you from, Laketown perhaps?" Legolas asked inquisitively.

"Laketown? No...no I'm from Edinburgh," Kyle answered, fear rising within her. Where exactly was she? She stared around; it didn't look like a hospital.

"I have heard of no such place," Legolas's brow deepened, "But that is not to say it does not exist. Do you know where you are now?"

"No," Kyle took a deep breath.

"You are in Mirkwood," He answered. "It is strange for a mortal to venture far into our lands, what is your purpose here?"

"I don't have a purpose here." Kyle spoke carefully. "I...I fell off a cliff...then everything went black and I was here,"

"It is fine; I will not press you further. Perhaps in time your memory will return to you," Legolas smiled at her reassuringly.

Kyle thought for a moment. She should have been dead; she and Rory had fallen to their deaths. There was no way to survive such a fall.

"Legolas," She spoke, "I should be dead. I fell from such a great height that it would be impossible for me to survive. I look around me and everything is so strange, I think I'm very far from home,"

"You must rest at the moment. You have been through a great ordeal, and until you are fully recovered I refuse to discuss this any further with you," He spoke, "You must sleep, young one,"

Kyle stared as he walked out of the door, his long blonde hair trailing after him. He did not look human, he was _too_ perfect. In comparison to the man Kyle looked like the rear-end of a cow. She carefully laid her head on the pillow and allowed her thoughts to drift onto more comforting thoughts, such as her brother's voice and her mother's smile. She hoped and prayed that Rory was well, that he had survived the fall like she had.

_Two years later,_

Mirkwood was a strange place. Kyle hadn't seen much of it during her stay, but what she had saw had been as beautiful as the people who resided within it. The houses instead of being secured to the ground were in the trees, and their inhabitants danced from branch to branch like it was easier than walking. The trees themselves were taller than any trees Kyle had ever seen and the flowers that surrounded them were bright and full of life.

As beautiful as Mirkwood was Kyle did not enjoy it. She was far from home, so far that she had doubt of her ever returning. Kyle had become certain that this mysterious medieval, alternate world was her second chance at life. She was never one to question things given to her for free, so she tried her best to settle in Mirkwood.

It was however, increasingly difficult to settle. Kyle looked at all the elves that surrounded her, they were so irritatingly perfect. Every single one of them looked absolutely flawless. Sometimes Kyle would catch one staring at her with scepticism, as if he was wondering what she was doing here. After all, Kyle was so imperfect. Even if her face had not been scarred she would have still stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the elves.

It was night in Mirkwood, the stars glimmering in the darkened sky and the moon was shining translucent light onto the earth around Kyle. She was sat amongst a field with her mind ticking away. She felt another presence, quiet footsteps trod on the soft ground behind her and Kyle jerked backwards.

Santiel, an elf Kyle was becoming close to stood arms folded behind her. Santiel, like the other elves was very beautiful, her eyes deep grey and her hair as dark as the night sky which surrounded her. She moved with grace and every step she took made no noise.

"What are you doing out here alone?" She asked, "It is late,"

"I was just thinking," Kyle spoke delicately, "About home,"

"I cannot imagine how much you miss home," Santiel sighed, perching next to Kyle fiddling with the edge of her hair. "I have never left my home; I cannot begin to understand,"

"I'm worried about my brother," Kyle continued, "I was lucky enough to be given a second chance, but was he? I think about him all the time, he never leaves my thoughts. If he's dead...it'll be my fault. If it wasn't for that stupid necklace,"

"Do not waste time on things that cannot be changed Kyle. You can't spend your life regretting things that are not in your power to alter," Santiel breathed. "Now, I must get you back to safety, it is far too late for my liking, and with darkness comes danger, and with danger death and injury,"

Kyle raised her eyebrows at her friend's morbid words, but followed Santiel out of the field and into the woods without much complaint. They finally reached the little house in which Kyle had been given to stay. Legolas had offered her one of the Talans, but upon finding out Kyle could not climb trees he had found a little home that was situated safely upon the ground.

It was a peaceful little place. Ivy crept up the wooden walls and red berries grew from every crevice. The door was shrouded in hanging baskets that overflowed with flowers of all colours. Legolas had pulled all the stops to make it homely for Kyle.

"I will leave now, have a good sleep," Santiel spoke kindly. "I will come see you in the morning,"

"Thanks, San," Kyle tried to smile. She unlocked the door and carefully made her way inside.

The fire was on, which was strange considering Kyle had purposely switched it of before leaving for her walk. The curtains were drawn and the smell of freshly baked bread overwhelmed her senses. Kyle took a few cautious steps forward before noticing Legolas in the Kitchen area.

"Legolas?" Kyle greeted, "What are you doing here,"

"Visiting you, of course" He answered withdrawing from the Kitchen and leaning upon the counter. "I thought you might be lonely. It cannot be easy living alone at such a young age. When I was your age...well I was still a toddler..."

Kyle felt like laughing. Age was a very unimportant aspect of elvish lives. Ever year that passed, little changed for them, children took years to mature, and men never lost their hair and woman never turned grey. It was a life of endless youth and Kyle like most mortals would have been, was envious.

It wasn't that she wanted to hold onto her beauty. She had very little of that left already, She was scared of withering. She was scared of her mind leaving her and being unable to care for herself. She was scared of becoming the old woman she had watched her gran become, confused and lost, losing her grip on the world.

Legolas noticed her worry for and gestured her to the seat. Kyle sat down and watched as Legolas sat beside her.

"You are not happy here," He stated. "I was speaking with my _adar,_ I am worried for your well-being. He suggested that you might be happier amongst your own people. He suggested Lake-town." Legolas's gaze turned to the fire. "I don't want you to move Kyle, I have come to see you as a friend, and you are very dear to me, but the option is there. If you were to move to Lake-town, you'd be amongst mortals. People who would age alongside you."

"I don't want to move," Kyle answered, "I want to stay here,"

"Myself and Santiel were hoping you would say that," Legolas smiled, "We elves, do not make friends so easily, and the friends we make we care deeply for. I am honoured to call you my friend Kyle,"


	4. Of Tomatoes and Miraculous Weather

**CHAPTER FOUR – OF TOMATOES AND MIRACULOUS WEATHER**

_"Even the smallest person can change the course of the future."_

Rory took a deep breath as he stared out across the Shire. It was a nice day, the sun was present in the clear blue sky, and no clouds threatened to ruin the weather. Where Rory came from good weather was not common, in fact it was incredibly rare. In Edinburgh a day without rain either meant you had been miraculously zapped into a different country without your knowing it, or some wacky scientist was playing with the weather again.

Because Rory was so unused to the sun, instead of tanning like any normal person, Rory's skin had burnt to crisp. His red skin combined with his rather round stomach, made him look like a walking tomato. The hobbits had been kind enough to remind him of this frequently, they were very fond of mocking him.

Rory still enjoyed the company of his Hobbit friends. In fact, as of late he and the hobbits had been spending much of their time with each other. His friends however did not change the fact that he did not belong. He felt like a fish out of water, or a wingless bird. He was not meant to be there. It was all wrong. But what could he do? Where else could he go? He was in a foreign world a million miles away from anyone he knew. He had nowhere, he had nothing.

He had lost it all that he had fallen from the cliff. Everything he had, had slipped away from him whilst he was desperately clutching onto his life. Often Rory would wonder if his sister had been granted the same second chance, if she like him had miraculously woken surrounded by strangers in a strange place.

Rory was broken from his thoughts by the loud footsteps of Bilbo Baggins. The hobbit had appeared at Rory's door with a sympathetic smile upon his old, worn face. "You look terribly bored young master," Bilbo spoke kindly, "Do you fancy some company?"

"That depends on who the company is," Rory cast him a snide glance, Bilbo sat down beside him anyway, chuckling quietly to himself. "Oh Bilbo, I feel terribly lost,"

"We all do at some point in our lives," Bilbo answered coolly,

"I don't belong here Bilbo," Rory spoke, "You... and Frodo, you have become very dear to me over this year, but the truth of the matter is I'm not a hobbit, and the longer I spend here pretending that I am, the longer I will be unhappy,"

"I have seen this coming for a while," Bilbo spoke, "It is true, that you are no hobbit. In appetite maybe...but that is besides the point. If you do not think you belong here, do not let your care for myself and Frodo stand against you. If your heart tells you to leave, then leave,"

"But where would I go? I have nowhere Bilbo," Rory spoke quietly, "I know nobody here, except from you,"

"I suggest Rivendell; it is often the place where many go when they seek answers to questions. The elves that dwell there are some of the wisest beings on earth, if anyone knows what brought you here it will be Elrond," Bilbo explained. "If you tell them you are a friend of mine they will welcome you with open arms."

"You would let me leave without as much as a little protest?" Rory laughed. It would have seemed that Bilbo was all too eager to get rid of him.

"I see how unhappy you are. It pleases my heart to see my friends smile, if I have to send you away for you to smile, then I shall," Bilbo spoke smiling. "However, I cannot trust that Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin will be so understanding; I doubt they will let you leave without a little protest,"

"Thank-you Bilbo," Rory spoke kindly, "For everything; if it were not for you I worry what would have become of me,"

"It was my pleasure having you," Bilbo bowed, "This is not the end, you will see me again I'm sure."

"I hope I do," He smiled. "That will be a lucky day indeed!"

Rory shivered, he would have to tell the young hobbits. He couldn't imagine what they would say, just yesterday they had been telling him how much more exciting the Shire had become with his presence. Rory couldn't help but feel they would feel betrayed by his decision to leave.

"Rory!" Pippin grinned, "Just the person we wanted to see on this fine morning, care to join us for some smoking?"

"I suppose I shall," Rory smiled, "Do you know where Sam and Frodo are? It's just I have something to tell you all and I'd rather we all be here when I break the news,"

"Uh...I think we saw them by the Gaffer's, we could go fetch them if you'd like?" Merry suggested,

Rory nodded, following his hobbit friends up the hill. Sure enough Sam and Frodo were stood by a solitary tree conversing with one another. Sam and Frodo stopped speaking when they noticed their friends stood carefully awaiting their attention.

"Why hello Merry, Pippin, Rory," Frodo smiled widely. "Is something the matter?"

"Rory has something to tell us," Pippin informed them, "Go on then Rory,"

"Well," Rory began, "I cannot predict how you are going to take this. It is not good news, but nor is it bad news. Earlier today myself and Bilbo were speaking. It has become apparent to me, that I do not belong here; as much as I have grown to love hobbits I am not one myself. It is for this reason and this reason alone that I have chosen to leave,"

"You can't leave!" Merry exclaimed, "We do not mind if you're not a hobbit! You have the spirit of one."

"We're not letting you leave," Pippin spoke indifferently; "We will tie you this tree if we must."

"I'm afraid that it is not your decision my friends," Rory sighed, "I have made this decision, and If I ever change my mind I will be able to return. Besides, I have not let go of the hope that my sister is somewhere out here, alive and well, if I stay here forever I will never find her. I'm sorry and I will miss you all terribly, but this is the way it must be,"

"We won't stop you," Frodo spoke, "But we can try and persuade you otherwise?"

"I'm afraid master Frodo, that no amount of convincing will make a difference," Rory spoke "Merry, Pippin? Are you angry?"

"Yes," Pippin spoke hastily. Merry didn't speak, a mild nod of the head was enough to tell Rory he agreed with Pippin. "We're angry, but you're still our friend. If there's nothing we can do, then we will enjoy the time we have left with you. Let us go and get drinks!"

The day of Rory's leaving had finally arrived. Bilbo had kindly purchased a horse for Rory and prepared a travelling bag. The young man bit back tears. From a young age Rory had been taught by his father that tears were a sign of weakness, he felt foolish to be so near crying at his age.

"Ah...do not shed tears Rory; it is not the end,"

"I am not crying...My eyes are just sore," Rory lied, "I will miss you all terribly, I do not know what will do without you. Pippin, Merry you have given me laughter at this terrible time in my life. Sam, your ears have always been open if I ever needed someone to talk to, Frodo you were like the brother I never had, and Bilbo, what to say. You have given me a life here, and I am more thankful than you can possible know,"

"You flatter me," Bilbo chuckled, "Now get off before the sun goes down and orcs plague your path," Rory's eyes flickered with fear at the mention of Orcs, but he bit them back. Rory mounted his horse and attached the bag to the saddle. "Wait, I nearly forgot!"

Rory turned around to look at Bilbo; the Hobbit was stood clutching a sword. It was much too large for him and he held it with great difficulty. "A sword? Bilbo...I can't,"

"When your life depends on it, you won't be telling me you can't," Bilbo grumbled, "Now take it, it cost me a fare few so do not lose it,"

"I will not lose it," Rory took it, admiring the shimmering metal of the handle. He took it in his grip and was thankful that it was not too heavy. "Thank you for the gift,"

Rory cast the hobbits one last look before placing the sword in his belt. With one tug of the reigns the horse broke into a trot and Rory rode off into the sunset.


	5. The Newly Spun Web

**CHAPTER 5 – THE NEWLY SPUN WEB**

_"I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something_."

Kyle sat alone on a tree branch. It had taken her a while to master the skill of tree climbing, but after much effort on Santiel's part the young mortal could now successfully reach the first branch. Kyle stared out across Mirkwood, She was lucky enough to only have seen the habited area of the vast forest, from what Legolas had told her, outside the borders of his father's realm, Mirkwood was not the beautiful place she had assumed it to be.

"Why do you carry knives with you?" Kyle asked, staring carefully at the knives across Santiel's back. "I mean, we're in no danger right?"

"Ah, that's where you are wrong," Santiel exclaimed, "In Mirkwood, no matter where you may be, you are always in danger. You may seem well-protected here, but in the blink of an eye that can change. For the spiders are sly, quiet and deadly, you would not know they were there till they were wrapping their web around you,"

"That's rather morbid," Kyle sighed, "Now I'm afraid to sleep,"

"And so you should be, fear is our greatest defence," Santiel spoke, "If we did not fear the spiders we would be vulnerable to them, we would underestimate them,"

"Is it only Spiders? I mean, there isn't anything else ghastly hiding behind tree trunks?" Kyle continued, her heart thudding against her chest. Rory had always been the brave one. "Is there?"

"There are many things Kyle, there are Orcs and Goblins, there are wargs and other unkindly beasts, many dwell here in fact, or at least near here, a few pass through on occasion. You are never safe; you'd do best to remember that,"

"I wouldn't stand much of a chance if I were attacked," Kyle pointed out, "I would be a ready-meal,"

"We can rectify that if you wish, I'm pretty handy with knives, I could teach you. Or if you would rather a bow, I'm sure Legolas would be more than happy to tutor you," Santiel sighed,

Kyle considered the prospect of being tutored by Legolas. The word _awkward_ sprang to mind, although she looked at Legolas like a friend, he wasn't Santiel, she couldn't be herself around him, her heart would beat faster and she would have to think about what she said before she said it. Legolas made her feel...nervous.

"I don't know, I'm pretty terrible at anything that involves coordination," She pondered, imagining herself fumbling hopelessly around with a pair of knives.

"Luckily for you we elves are good at teaching," Santiel smiled,

"No!" Santiel stammered, "You're doing it all wrong!"

Santiel's harsh yet true words echoed through Kyle's ears as she nervously gripped the knife. It was rather uncomfortable to hold, its wooden handle was not fitted to her hand and the jagged edge kept digging into her wrist. Once more Santiel stood by Kyle's side and fixed her stance, Kyle tried hard to retain it.

"Right, I can do this," Kyle nodded to herself,

"Of course you can. Forget that I am your friend. I am an orc and I'm going to kill you if you don't fight back," Santiel explained.

"I've never seen an orc,"

"I'm coming to kill you, fight back. Can you do that?!" Santiel rolled her eyes and Kyle gave a determined nod

Kyle had not expected her friend to come at her with such force. Brandishing a long sword Santiel had leapt forward swinging it so fast Kyle could only see the blur. Instinctively Kyle swung one of her knives, Santiel easily dodged it.

"Come on, I'm killing you right now!"

Taking a deep breath, Kyle took a plunge; she dived forward swinging her knife carefully and attempting to grab Santiel's top. Of course, the experienced elf saw it coming and before Kyle had the chance to grab the top, Santiel had locked Kyle in a death lock. "And I'm dead," Kyle announced carefully. Santiel let her go.

"You're getting better; you could take a spiderling," Santiel shrugged, "A _very_ young spiderling,"

Santiel allowed Kyle a break, the mortal was exhausted from the effort and was in desperate need of a cool drink. Just as Kyle leant back on the bench her heart begun to slow, But it instantly sped up again when she saw the figure of Legolas walked toward them.

"Here's Legolas!" Santiel exclaimed.

"Santiel," Legolas greeted her kindly, "What brings a healer to the training grounds?"

"I was telling Kyle of the dangers of Mirkwood, I thought it would be good for her to learn how to defend herself," Santiel explained.

"Knives? I am not too bad with knives," Legolas boasted. Kyle felt her stomach sink. "How about a little spar? I'll go easy on you,"

Kyle cast him a sceptical glance. She didn't want to show herself up in front of Legolas, but before she could protest Legolas had pulled her to her feet. Santiel watched in mild amusement as Kyle gripped her knives and fixed her stance. Part of Kyle expected Legolas to hold back. She had never been more wrong in her life.

Legolas propelled himself forward, his knives gripped tightly in his steel clutch. His feet moved in perfect unison as he dodged every one of Kyle's half-hearted attacks in a dance-like fashion. Finally Legolas begun swinging his knives brutally and Kyle struggled to escape the ruthless attacks.

"Come on Kyle, Imagine your brother is behind you." Legolas spoke, "If you fail, he dies,"

Legolas had said the right thing; a newly fuelled Kyle twisted her knife around in her hand and with a smile on her face attempted to lunge at Legolas. It was good effort, but of course the elf knocked her back whilst grabbing her arm to stop her from falling.

"That was not too bad," Legolas shrugged, "But it could have been better,"

Kyle sighed, what did she have to do for some praise?

Santiel and Kyle walked carefully through the forest. Ever since learning of the danger that lurked within the forest, Kyle had grown increasingly fearful of straying too far from her little home. Santiel was indifferent, Kyle assumed after living for over a thousand years fear no longer had the same effect. Kyle hoped the fear would leave her like it had left Santiel, she missed being carefree.

"I wanted to give you a gift Kyle," Santiel spoke gently, propping herself upon on a broken tree. She pulled out of her rucksack, a long silver object wrapped in a long sheet of parchment. "Can you not guess what it is friend?"

Kyle shook her head uneasily and carefully accepted the gift from Santiel. It was heavy, but not to heavy that it could not be held with ease. Kyle took off the sheet of parchment to reveal a short, shining knife. Its edge was razor sharp and its hilt encrusted with green gems that glimmered delicately under the influence of the sun.

"Wow...it's beautiful," Kyle replied, "If only I could use it,"

"Over time you will improve Kyle," Santiel chuckled, "It is mainly for my piece of mind. You have became very dear to me Kyle, but I cannot be there to protect you all the time,"

"I don't expect you to," Kyle sighed,

All of a sudden Santiel froze. The smile vanished from her pale face, her eyes filling with a new sense of dread. Kyle stared around as she nervously gripped her deathly gift. What had Santiel seen? Kyle couldn't see it. Santiel tip-toed in front of Kyle, her arm outstretched protectively as if to keep Kyle back, The air grew cold and Santiel's dread radiated from her and overcame Kyle. The Mortal begun to shiver, and finally the source of all the fear appeared from behind a tree trunk.

It had eight long legs and eight wide beady eyes that seemed to focus in on Santiel and Kyle. It crept forward, barely creating a sound. The hairs on its back looked like daggers of steel. Kyle felt her heart beat faster, even faster than it did when she was in Legolas's presence. She shut her eyes. She didn't want to see the beast for any longer than she had too.

She heard the thrashing of Santiel's knifes upon the carcass of the fearsome beast. Kyle's eyes opened. To her relief, Santiel was fine. She was uninjured, but covered in a thick black substance that was the spider's blood. Kyle breathed a sigh of relief, but the sigh all but vanished when she seen the other eight beasts standing poised to attack behind the body of their fallen comrade.

Santiel nervously turned around, fear in her stance. Kyle let out a little muffled scream, gripping her knife with new-found strength. Before she could leap forward to stand beside her friend, Santiel spoke. "Kyle, run. We stand not a chance,"

Kyle expected Santiel to run with her and the mortal turned and sprinted off through the trees, running as fast as her feet could take her. The forest was silent still, the birds hiding within their nests and the wind, strangely non-existent, but all of a sudden, the birds flew from their nests and the wind brushed through the leaves. A blood curdling scream echoed through the forest. It was a cry of pain.

It was Santiel.

Kyle stopped running, her feet failing to run. She begun to pant, and to cry and the only thing that she could hear or feel, was Santiel's cries of pain. She felt a pair of arms around her and gentle breathing upon the back of her neck. "Your fine Kyle," He breathed. Kyle turned around to face Legolas.

"San- You've got to get Santiel,"

"She's already gone," He murmured, concealing his own despair. "She's dead,"


	6. To the Edge of This World

**CHAPTER SIX – TO THE EDGE OF THIS WORLD**

"_"His house was perfect, whether you liked food, or sleep, or work, or story-telling, or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all. Evil things did not come into that valley."_

_**In Rivendell...**_

**R**ory had found himself sat a table with elvish lords and rabbit food. Bilbo had been right, Rivendell was a homely place, there were plenty of things to do and Rory was not exactly bored, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was even further from home than he was before he left Bag End.

Rivendell was a place of such beauty; the sky seemed a brighter blue, and the elves. They were something else. They were as merry as the hobbits and as beautiful as the shining stars. Rory couldn't help but feel he was slightly out of place amongst them.

"Rory. That is your name?" Elrond spoke carefully, his eyebrows raising.

"Yes, I'm Rory. Rory Humphrey Andrews,"

"It's nice to meet you Rory," The elf lord spoke. "Tell me again of how you came to be here?"

"I died, or at least I think I did," Rory shrugged. "Me and my sister. We were on a cliff, and there was a...bout of bad weather, and we...sort of fell off,"

"Interesting, and you are sure there is no way you could have survived the fall?" Elrond continued, trying desperately to find holes in Rory's, honest, albeit unlikely story.

"No m'lord. It was a sheer drop to hard ground below,"

"It is not often I speak these words Rory, but I am utterly clueless." Elrond sighed. "If you wish for my opinion, I will tell you, do not to question the things that are given for free. It appears by some miracle you have been given a second chance,"

"Do you think my sister will have been given a second chance too?" Rory questioned.

"I could not tell you," Elrond spoke, "And if by some mere chance she too has been given the gift of a second chance, she could be anywhere, from Mordor to Gondor,"

"I won't stop looking for her," Rory spoke with a determined edge in his tone. "If I have to walk from here to the edge of this world, I will."

"I admire your determination young Rory," Elrond smiled, "Your sister is very lucky to have such a good brother."

"Aye, she is indeed," Rory grunted.

For the first time in his life, Rory was in a library. This library, was however much different to the one back home in Edinburgh. It was full, and the shelves strangely empty. Two elves caught sight of him. Tall, dark-haired, grey-eyed. Identical. Elladan and Elrohir.

The pair had quickly become Rory's good friends during his stay. They were curious beings and had sat for hours listening to Rory speak of his home. In exchange for Rory's stories, they had taught him how to use the sword that hung from his belt.

"Rory!" One of them grinned. Rory could never tell which was which. "Just the mortal we were looking for,"

"Elladan, Elrohir," Rory sighed.

"We didn't think you were the reading sort Rory?" Elladan eyed his friend up carefully. "But then again, we don't know you all that well..."

"_I'm_ not the reading sort," Rory answered. "Not usually, I actually came looking for some maps. I'm going to be leaving soon, only I don't know where I'm going to leave to,"

"Leaving? Already?" Elrohir sighed, "It has only been a few months!"

"Where I come from a few months is a long time. Besides, I need to make a move now. Rivendell is a beautiful place, but without my sister it is not my home,"

"Well... "Elladan cast his brother a careful glance, his brother nodded glumly. "I suppose we could come with you,"

"What? I couldn't ask you to do that!" Rory exclaimed, "I mean...Kyle is not your sister. She is mine to find, my burden to bare,"

"Well, look at it like this Rory. We have come to see you as a brother, and if Kyle is your sister, she is ours as well." Elrohir explained. "We want to help you Rory. Besides, we were never...averse to a bit of adventure. What do you say? Will you take us?"

"I don't know,"

"It's fine if you don't want us. I suppose you're perfectly capable of defending yourself against hundreds of orcs, goblins, wargs..." Elladan recited,

"Fine, Fine. You can come," Rory sighed. "Just the three of us."

"It'll be fun," Elrohir grinned, "Orc-slaying with our favourite mortal, what could go wrong?"

The mortal in question took a deep breath whilst biting his tongue to restrain himself from saying "A lot". "So, where to then?" Rory asked,

"We could go to Mirkwood," Elladan suggested, "It has been long since we have seen Legolas. It's as good a place as any to start looking for Kyle. The wood elves hear a lot you know,"

"Yes 'Dan, but don't you remember that Rory is petrified of spiders?" Elrohir snorted, "Don't you remember when he had us dispose of a simple house spider for him? Can you imagine what he'd be like faced with a spider from Mirkwood,"

"I suppose not," Elladan sighed. "How about Rohan, there's lots of mortals there. Rory would feel at home amongst them,"

"Rohan it is,"

The Road to Rohan was long and Elladan and Elrohir were dangerous company. It wasn't that they attracted danger, it was that they _sought _it out. The prospect of an orc fight excited them.

During Rory's stay in Rivendell he had heard the story of what had happened to their mother in the dens of orcs. Rory could only blame that incident for the savages the twins had become. It was as though with every orc they killed; it brought them closer to their mother. Part of Rory understood their suffering, and their need for revenge.

"It grows dark," Elladan spoke, drawing his horse to a halt, "I think it is time for us to rest,"

"Yes," Elrohir sighed, dismounting his horse and staring around at the area. "It is an ideal place to stop. No orcs shall find us here,"

"Don't sound so disappointed," Rory grunted flying from his horse and withdrawing his travel pack. "But it is a good place to stop, I can see the stars from here." Elladan smiled looking up at the sky himself. "You know, I used to be able to name all the stars in the sky back home. But now, the stars are as foreign to me as the lands under them,"

"You shall grow familiar my friend," The twins spoke in unison. "In time, you will look upon this world as your home,"

"There is a saying where I come from. That home, is where the heart is," Rory sighed, "This will not be my home, until my heart is here, and right now, it is with my family, and they are further from me than I will ever reach,"


	7. Cotton Wool

**CHAPTER SEVEN – COTTON WOOL**

_That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo… and it's worth fighting for._

**T**hranduil stared at the mountain of paperwork that was piled in front of him. Being king was not as easy as many people would believe; there was a lot of work involved and a lot of responsibility. Thranduil however, was completely ignoring his workload today. He had to have a word with his son.

It had not escaped the Elvenking's attention that his son had been spending more and more time with the mortal girl named Kyle. The King knew that relationships between mortals and immortals did not have happy endings, for Legolas, there could be only pain. Kyle would die, and with her so would Legolas's heart.

The door creaked open and Legolas appeared, he caught his father's gaze and sat himself down opposite the Elvenking. "What is it adar?" he asked,

"I wished to speak to you," Thranduil begun,

"About?"

"The mortal," The elvenking spoke, Legolas's eyebrows raised.

"The mortal has a name. She is Kyle and you should call her as such,"

"Kyle, if it pleases you so much," He continued, "It has come to my attention that you spend much of your time with her. In fact, I'd go as far as to say you spend _all _of your time with her. 'Las, I do not mean to question your motives, but whatever you may feel for this girl...It cannot be,"

"You think I look to her as more than a friend," Legolas took a deep breath. "Then you are mistaken, Kyle is very dear to me, but I do not look at her as anything but a good friend. You need not worry about it Adar,"

"Do not take me for a fool, I know you well, you are my son." Thranduil answered hastily as he leant forward across the table. "She is not good enough for you,"

"What is wrong with her father? Is she not good enough for me because of the scars that ravage her face? Or is it because she is imperfect, because her teeth are not perfectly straight and her skin without a blemish?" Legolas snapped. "You do not know her adar, I am not as vain as you would believe me to be,"

"So you admit you have feelings for her?"

Legolas's face flushed pink, he had not blushed since he had been a child and one of the elf maidens had kissed his cheek. "I feel nothing for her adar, for the hundredth time."

"Then why do you defend her so?"

"Because...I care for her and I love her. The truth of the matter is that she is to good for me Adar. She is...too innocent, too young...too annoyingly generous," Legolas spoke, "You asked me if I had feelings for her? Whether I do or do not is irrelevant. She is mortal and I am not, it could never be, even if I wanted it to. Such things do not have happy endings,"

"I am glad you agree," Thranduil sighed. "Just don't become to attached, in time she will wither and fade into nothing but dust, all whilst you remain ever youthful. She lives the life of ant, It will not be long before we are burying her beneath the ground,"

Legolas's heart stopped. The prospect of Kyle lying old and grey with no life in her blue eyes sickened him. He cared for her, more than he would like to admit, she was his friend, perhaps his best friend now that Santiel was gone, she was all he had. Thranduil noticed his son's pain.

"Mortality is a cruel thing," Legolas breathed. "It is all the more reason for me to spend as much time with her whilst her heart is still beating."

Kyle was stood in her kitchen carefully watching the pot of soup. Her mother had once told her that a watched pot never boils, and Kyle was forced to admit that her mother was in fact right. The soup didn't seem to be cooking at all and Kyle was growing nervous. Legolas was coming to dinner.

Legolas was a prince, and Kyle had quite rightfully deducted that he would be used to only the finest food. Kyle could only wonder what he would think of her food, cooking had never been one of her skills. The colour the soup had turned was doing nothing to reassure Kyle of how it would taste.

The door opened. Legolas. He was early. It had gotten to the point where he didn't even bother knocking. He laid his bow and his quiver down and entered the kitchen with warm and inviting smile on his face.

"Something smells...intriguing," Legolas inhaled the scent, his face flushing with disgust. Kyle sighed.

"It looks as disgusting as it smells," Kyle grunted, "I've never been a good cook,"

"I'm sure it will taste better than it smells and looks," The prince chuckled. "You shouldn't have went to all the effort, Kyle. I could brought something from the kitchens if you do not enjoy cooking,"

"Oh no I enjoy it, it's just. The end results aren't always the best," Kyle laughed, "If you think the soup looks bad, wait till you see the main. Then you'll know the true meaning of disgusting,"

"I'm sure it will be fine," Legolas laughed, holding his breath as Kyle tipped the soup into two bowls. "I have seen green soup, and red soup. I have even seen purple soup. But never in my life have I ever seen...black soup,"

"It's very dark brown actually," Kyle turned her nose up whilst defending herself. "Enjoy,"

"I intend to,"

The pair of them sat down at the counter and with bated breath they finally took a spoonful of the black soup. It turned out, that after all the effort it tasted worse than it looked and smelled and Kyle couldn't finish it. Legolas however did well in hiding his disgusted expression and he finished the whole thing. Afterward he complimented her. Kyle did not like liars.

Her mother had told her she was beautiful after her accident. Her mother had lied. Her father had told her she was as pretty as a princess. Her father had lied. In fact, the only person who hadn't lied was Rory, the brutally honest brother. After Kyle's accident he had told her that she wouldn't need to dress up for Halloween as her face would scare people half to death without a costume or makeup.

Many people would have been appalled by Rory's comment, but not Kyle. That's what she loved about him; he never padded her with cotton wool. He never allowed her to live in a fantasy world in her head where she was beautiful. He told her that she looked like the rear-end of a cow and he told her when she had been putting on weight. He was Rory, the terribly inappropriate and offensive, Rory.

"So what is for the main?"

"A Leg of Pork, but It'll be another ten minutes," Kyle sighed, "At the least."

"Ah," Legolas breathed, "Kyle? I have always meant to ask you. I just didn't know if it was something you would like to talk about. What happened to your face? I see the scars, they run deep."

"I never usually speak about it," Kyle told him, "But I'm ready to talk about it now, I've never had many friends before, I've never had anyone to tell. It all happened when I was twelve, Rory was just nine. I had taken him to the park so he could collect leaves and flowers for his scrapbook. We were rustling through the trees and he was standing on all the twigs, He enjoyed the crunching noise it made. There was a dog, a big dog, it was a Rottweiler I think. Rory's standing on the twigs must have spooked it, because it started growling at him aggressively. All of a sudden it flew at him. He was just small...It was on top of him, he had held his arm out to protect himself and it was chewing through it like a piece of rubber. I instinctively hit it, and I pulled it of him with all my strength and it turned on me...and that's what happened to my face,"

"You were so young," Legolas grabbed Kyle hand and twisted it around in his own hands. "It must have been hard growing up with the scars,"

"I have had people stare at me in the street, I have had others that mock me for no reason. This girl called Priya, made my life hell. She spat in my face and treated me as though I was less than human, as though I was unworthy of and form respect. It gets easier, you learn to live with how you look. I know I'll never be beautiful, or even normal."

"I think you are beautiful," Legolas smiled, "You may not be physically beautiful, but I do not see people for how they look, it is what is inside that truly counts. It takes a while to see someone's inner beauty, but when you see it, it is all that matters,"

Kyle's face turned a pale shade of pink. "Thanks. Your not...to bad yourself," She stuttered. "I mean physically your perfect," Kyle's already blushing face turned scarlet as Legolas surveyed her carefully. A smile broke out onto his face.

"You are too kind," He laughed.

Kyle finally found the strength to stare him in the eye. Legolas met her gaze and the smile vanished as he realized he was still holding her hand. Kyle took her hand back and nervously placed it under her chin.

Suddenly, the overwhelming scent of burning engulfed the room. The leg of Pork. Kyle had forgotten about it. She flew over to the stove and pulled out the meat only to find that it was as black as the soup. She felt like crying, could this day have been any worse?


	8. Ten Toes and One Foot

**CHAPTER EIGHT – ONE FOOT AND TEN TOES**

_"The world is indeed full of peril and in it there are many dark places._  
_But still there is much that is fair. And though in all lands, love is now_  
_mingled with grief, it still grows, perhaps, the greater."_

**E**lladan and Elrohir were entertaining. In small doses.

Rory had come to realise that his friends were the most annoying beings to have walked across the earth. It had been two months of travelling, searching every small settlement they passed for some sign of Kyle, they had of course found nothing. Rory was at his wits end with the twins, they had the odd habit of finishing each other's sentences, and every night they would slip spiders into Rory's sheets to frighten him half to death. They took joy in his discomfort. Rory had deduced that the twins were sadistic.

They were nearing Rohan; it was about a two day ride away. The weather had not been their friend, the sky a foul shade of grey and the clouds hanging miserably concealing behind them the sun. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances with each other, whilst Rory was left clueless as to what the twins were smiling at. "What is it?" He finally asked, "What are you two grinning at,"

"We...ugh...found something in your...pack," Elladan concealed his smile. "A painting or something,"

"A painting?" Rory's eyebrows rose. He certainly wasn't aware there was painting in his pack. What were they talking about? "I don't have a painting in my pack,"

"Yes you do, It's a painting of you, wearing a dress," Elrohir snorted, "Did you paint it yourself?"

Rory pressed his palm to his face in sheer disbelief, "For starters that is a photograph not a painting, and second of all that is not a dress, it is a kilt,"

"A kilt?"

"I'm Scottish, Men wear kilts for special occasions," Rory answered dumbly,

"It seems awful feminine to me, I mean, It _is _a skirt!" Elladan sighed,

"Wearing leggings seems very feminine to me but I do not mock you for it," Rory told him.

Elladan and Elrohir fell silent for the first time in weeks; it was as if they had run out of things to say. Rory was about to punch the air, but the twins stopped dead, looks of excitement flashing across their faces. Rory watched fearfully as their hands fell to their belts and their fingers wrapped around the hilts of their swords.

"Guys, what's happening?" Rory asked. He received no answer. Rory assumed some danger was on the horizon and he cautiously gripped his own sword so that he would be as prepared as the twins. "Elladan-"

"Shut up Rory!" Elladan yelled. Rory's eyebrows squinted. "We have the advantage of surprise, you idiot. Don't ruin it,"

It was then; Rory saw what Elladan and Elrohir had seen before him. No less than ten orcs all lined up armed to the teeth in weapons Rory had been having nightmares about since he was a child. Axes, crossbows, swords, two teethed blades with jagged edges, Double headed axes, and spears...Rory cringed. He was dead. He stood not a chance.

Elladan and Elrohir circled behind a tree and Rory had no choice but to follow them, he had a better chance by their side rather than on his own in full view of the orcs. The thing that annoyed him was that they had had ample time to flee, but instead Elladan and Elrohir had chosen to run toward the danger instead of away from it. Rory, had already knew of their recklessness, it shouldn't have surprised him.

"Are you ready for your first fight Rory?" Elrohir grinned, "Try not to get a spear embedded in your skull, or an axe in the back of your neck,"

Rory felt his hand shake violently as they grew nearer the orcs. He could taste the adrenaline in his mouth and he could feel the intense fear swelter through him like an electric shock. He could die. However, a tiny part of him looked forward to the killing; he wanted to put his sword to use.

Rory groaned. Elladan and Elrohir were a bad influence on him. Before he had met them he had been a "Sweet little boy" Now, he craved murder and blood. He was close to the orcs now, very close indeed.

Elladan and Elrohir charged forward and Rory timidly copied them, raising his sword shakily to above his head. They met the orcs, who were now very much aware of their presence. Rory noticed how outnumbered they were, it was about five orcs for every one of them.

Elladan and Elrohir had already taken down two each. Rory swung his sword forward and it battered across the back of a an orc, it crumpled to its knees as black blood poured from the wound. He pulled his sword back and took a deep breath. His first kill. It had felt good. He retreated, a smile of pride upon his face, by the time he had the chance to look for more victims Elladan and Elrohir had already disposed of the other orcs, and they were staring at him intently.

"Your first kill," Elladan clapped. "Well done my man,"

"The first of many I hope," Elrohir added clapping Rory across the back. "Now we must check to see if they have anything worth stealing."

Rory sighed as he watched the twins scatter across the newly bloodied battlefield. They knelt beside each orc and Rory, like always. Copied them. He found his own victim and perched by its side, sliding his hands into its pockets. There was nothing to salvage.

Rory stood up and shook his head at the twins indicating that there was in fact nothing to steal. He was about to walk forward when he felt a hand wrap around his ankle. Rory froze.

The orc, his first victim. Was still alive. The orc pulled his foot and Rory fell flat on his face. He clawed at the ground desperately and Elladan and Elrohir ran forward, but by that time they got to him it was too late. The orc had lifted up its sword with the remainder of its strength and sliced through Rory's foot, severing it.

Rory cried out in agony, his body turning limp and his sight beginning to blur. He felt Elladan's arms around him and the absence of warmth and light. Once again everything went black. Was he dead _again_?

"I cannot believe he has lost his foot," Elladan sighed kneeling by his friend's bedside. "It is a shame, he had potential. Now he is a cripple...It is a tragedy,"

"He could have died 'Dan, he is lucky to be alive," Elrohir replied, surveying Rory's twitching eyelids. "A missing foot is a small price; compared to his life don't you think?"

Elladan mildly nodded and sank back into the chair. "I wonder how long it will take him to recover. I do not wish to remain here for long. I find Rohan terribly dull. The ale however goes for a good price,"

"Our friend has lost nearly three quarters of his blood supply and you speak of how cheap the ale is here?" Elrohir laughed, "You never cease to amaze me dear brother,"

Just as Elladan was about to give his witty response Rory let out a loud groan and reached out grabbing Elladan's hand tightly in his grip. The elder twin looked horrified. Elrohir snorted as he watched Rory's eyes open. The mortal took a deep breath and pulled himself up staring curiously at Elladan. Rory had still not let go of his hand. "Why are you holding my hand!" Rory exclaimed,

"I didn't, you grabbed it," Elladan retrieved his hand, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, Fine, did they re-attach my foot?" He asked, peering under his covers. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged worried glances. When Rory returned from his peek his face was stained with worry and pain. "Oh...Oh...shit,"

"You lost three quarters of your blood supply," Elrohir explained. "You are lucky you are alive, you have us to thank. You are in our debt for eternity,"

"I'm crippled, I only have one foot," Rory spoke bewildered, the news still hadn't quite sunk in. It was too unbearable. "Oh...bloody hell! What am I going to do? I blame you, and you!" He pointed at the twins, tears prickling down his face. "If it weren't for your constant need for danger I'd still have ten toes!"


	9. Perfectly Proportioned Petals

**CHAPTER NINE – PERFECTLY PROPORTIONED PETALS**

_"I feel…thin. Sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread. I need a holiday. A very long holiday. And I don't expect I shall return.  
In fact, I mean not to,"_

Kyle stared absently at the bouquet of flowers she had received. The vase could hardly hold the vivid flowers of red and orange. They were too beautiful for someone like her. They, like the elves were irritatingly perfect, each petal in perfect proportion. Kyle carefully examined the note. _Dear Kyle, These reminded me of you. _Kyle sighed, how could something so beautiful remind anyone of her? There had only even been one person who had been blind enough to call her beautiful. Legolas.

Kyle took a deep breath and released a long breath as she twiddled the flower longingly around in her fingers. She _wanted_ them to be from Legolas. That would have meant that her growing feelings for him were returned. That way she would not feel like an idiot for even considering the prospect of someone like Legolas, angelic in his appearance, with someone like her...A scarred girl with a plain face.

The door carefully nudged open and Kyle listened to Legolas's footsteps. They were evenly spaced, perfect like everything else he did. He entered the living area, his face unharmed from the bitter cold outside, his eyes instantly found Kyle and a smile grew on his face. "Kyle," He breathed "It is cold outside,"

"It is," Kyle nodded still playing with the flower in her fingers.

"Where did you pick the flowers at this time of year?" He asked, smiling, "They are beautiful aren't they?"

Kyle's face blushed scarlet. It was he who had gotten them for her? Surely he knew where he had gotten them. "I thought...I thought you...picked them..." Kyle murmured, Legolas noted the redness of her face. "You did didn't you?"

"No...No I didn't," Legolas carefully examined Kyle's expression of disappointment, now she felt silly. "Did someone leave them for you?"

"Yes, and a note," Kyle shrugged, "It wasn't signed or anything,"

The elf prince took the note and studied it, turning it over a few times between his fingers. "It would appear you have a secret admirer," Legolas sighed, "I can hardly imagine who," The elf instantly realised what he had said. "I'm sorry I just meant that-"

"No it's fine, your right" Kyle snapped, "Who _would _leave me beautiful flowers and a note comparing me to them? Only a fool would not see the implausibility in that, there must be some catch,"

Legolas deeply regretted what he had said, but could think of no words to recover from the statement. "There is no catch Kyle. Someone wanted to give you flowers. You are beautiful-

"Don't lie," Kyle yelled, "I would rather you be honest. Liars don't make good friends,"

Legolas went silent and he carefully reached forward for Kyle's hand, she let him take it, that tiny little part of her craving any form of attention from him. She felt like a young school girl again, Legolas had been the only person to have ever said nice things about her; he had been the only person to look at her and say that her appearance made no difference to him. Over the weeks Kyle's feelings had been growing stronger, she held them back. She was being stupid. Legolas was her friend, nothing more and nothing less. Her feelings would not be returned.

"I came to ask you to the feast," Legolas smiled, "It is the anniversary of my father's coronation."

"I don't know," Kyle spoke, "I'm assuming there will be lots of people?"

"Of course," He laughed,

"I think...You know I have...stuff to do," Kyle begun frantically staring at the room, searching her mind for some excuse to get her out of the feast. She did not want the elves staring at her. She did not want to feel out of place.

"Two minutes ago you told me that liars do not make good friends," Legolas snapped, he cupped her face in his hand. "You are my friend; I won't let anyone harm you,"

"I'm not worried about that, I'm worried about them staring at me Legolas. I feel so out of place,"

"I will pick you up later tonight," He placed a kiss on her forehead. "Find something nice to wear,"

Kyle groaned. Apparently she did not have a choice in the matter.

The feast was exactly how Kyle had imagined it to be. Extravagant. The hall was draped in green, the tables lined with golden silk sheets. Upon them were plates full of green vegetables and the occasional platter of meats. Kyle couldn't help but notice the wine to elf ratio. From the stacks of filled glasses she had seen, she had judged it to be about eight glasses for every one elf.

Kyle tried hard to stay by Legolas's side, she didn't know anyone else. The prince however was circulating around guests, exchanging hugs and kind words before moving onto the next. With every elf they greeted Kyle felt even more insecure, their gazes scrutinised her.

The dress she wore had been one of Santiel's; the elf had given it to her as she had grown tired of the colour. It was a dark green and the bottom was all frayed from age. It went needless to say that Kyle's attire was rather out of place amongst the elf maidens. Legolas however had complimented her.

"You must be Kyle," One of the elf maidens whom Legolas was greeting turned her attention to Kyle. "I am Vanya,"

"It's nice to meet you," Kyle spoke lightly; Legolas put his arm carefully upon her shoulder and pulled her into the circle.

"Legolas has told me much about you," Vanya grinned, "You have made quite an impression on him,"

Legolas's face flushed with colour and Kyle gave a nervous smile. "I hope I have made a good impression,"

"Of course you have," Legolas spoke lightly, "How could you not? You're the most wonderful mortal I've ever met. I ever will meet."

"Naneth spoke highly of you as well," Vanya smiled.

"Naneth?"

"My mother, sorry forgive me, my common is not perfect," She chuckled. "My mother was Santiel."

Kyle's brow deepened. Santiel had a daughter? She had never been aware of this. Why hadn't Santiel told her? Kyle bit back the look of confusion and surprise that had already grown on her face. Vanya looked like Santiel, very much so in fact. Even her smile screamed Santiel. "I did not know Santiel was married far less...a mother,"

"My mother is very private about her personal life," Vanya shrugged, "She does not like to speak of herself, It was her plan to invite you for dinner and meet us firsthand, but alas she was not able to ask you. In her passing I hope that we can be friends, It was what my mother would have wanted, you were very dear to her. She looked to you as her own child,"

"I had no idea," Kyle smiled. She had not known Santiel viewed her as a daughter, and she felt very privileged.

"It was nice meeting you, I must go and locate my smaller brother," Vanya disappeared into the crow, once again leaving Kyle alone with Legolas.

After a further few hours of circulating through the masses of elves the music drew to a halt and the elvenking took his seat in the centre of a long table. Legolas was by his side, and somehow the prince had managed to secure a seat next to him for Kyle. There were a few, rather boring and pressing announcements and a toast, before finally the feast ended.

Kyle returned home, Legolas had offered to walk her but she had declined not wanting him to go to the trouble.

She entered her home. Something wasn't right. It felt strange. She placed her coat onto the seat and stared around curiously searching the room for anything that looked out of place. She could see nothing; finally her gaze fell upon the flowers. They had been a vibrant red when she had left. Now they had withered to blackened crisps. The once perfect leaves had dropped and lay scattered across the floor.

Kyle took a few steps forward. The smell had turned from sweet to a sickening sour and she felt her lungs burn as she breathed the air in. What was happening? She curiously picked up a flower and it disintegrated turning to a light dust that flew up her nostrils.

Kyle begun to cough uncontrollably, blood spurting out of her mouth with every loud rasping sound she made. Every breath she took caused her pain. Kyle flew towards the door, but she could not make it. She collapsed to her knees at the edge of the door as the flowers gave one large puff of toxic black smoke.


	10. Climbing Mount Everest

**CHAPTER TEN – CLIMBING MOUNT EVEREST**

_"Pity? It was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand. Many that live deserve death. Some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them, Frodo? Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. Even the very wise cannot see all ends. My heart tells me that Gollum has some part to play yet, for good or ill before this is over. The pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many."_

**A**djusting to life with only one foot was very difficult. Walking a short distance was the equivalent of climbing Mount Everest. Often, Rory would forget of his unfortunate dilemma and would subconsciously step out of bed using his non-existent right foot. Needless to say, he ended up in a heap on the floor.

Rohan had proved a pleasant place to stay. The people had been very accepting of Rory's condition; apparently the loss of limb and other body parts was not uncommon. Some of the healer's even had various devices that acted as prosthetics. Rory had ended up with a strange sort of wooden slab attached to bottom of his stump. It was a ghastly thing, but when disguised with a thick boot it was unnoticeable. His limp however, was very prominent; the healer had told him he'd never be able to run again.

"Rory," Elladan took a deep breath. "When do we leave Rohan? Kyle is not here. We waste time. We could head toward Gondor, or maybe even in the direction of Mirkwood?"

Rory thought for a moment. He was in no such condition for a travel. "Elladan I wish to stay here. I know that I said I would walk to the ends of the earth to find Kyle, but now that I can no longer walk I realise how folly that statement was. We cannot search this whole world, she could be anywhere, and the reality of it is. She could be dead,"

Elrohir and Elladan were unused to Rory being pessimistic. He had always looked on the bright side of things, but now with his foot injury he seemed to be falling into a slow and gripping depression. He had all but given up on the prospect of seeing his sister alive again. "You have changed Rory," Elrohir murmured, "There was once a time when you were of the belief that Kyle was alive,"

"Yes, well times change," Rory sighed. "I wish I'd never left Bag End, I'd still have ten toes if I had simply remained there."

The twins sighed. "Then we shall leave you here Rory," Elrohir sighed, "You no longer require us and we grow tired of the scenery."

Rory felt a sinking feeling in his chest. He didn't want them to leave, they were his only friends in Rohan, but at the same time he could not ask them to remain. Elladan and Elrohir were not the type to settle for somewhere for too long. "Oh," Rory mumbled. "I'll miss you,"

"And us you. Perhaps in time we shall see you again,"

Elladan and Elrohir's absence had a profound effect on Rory. His depression worsened without his friends to cheer him up but Rory was a survivor. He would not so easily give up on life. Rory wandered through the market. With every step he took, a shooting pain travelled up through his leg. It was painful, but not unbearable.

There were various stalls, some sold fruit and vegetables, others armoury and weapons. Rory stopped at an herb stall; he had learnt from the healer that a tiny quantity of Wolfbane was a proficient killer of pain. He was about to hand over his money, when a woman gave a loud cry and he dropped his change in shock.

He swivelled around and he spotted a woman, crumpled to her knees by the vegetable stall. She did not look like a rich woman, her face encrusted with dirt and her hair long and wiry. "A thief!" She screamed pointing in the direction of a man who was running down the aisles of stalls.

Rory did not know where he found the strength, or the ability for that matter, but he shot of in pursuit of the man. He was not particularly fast, but he was running and finally the thief tripped over a bag of potatoes and it was just the delay Rory needed to catch the suspect.

Rory withdrew his sword and placed it by the man's head, breathing out in exhaustion. He took the little pouch filled with the woman's gold and he chucked it back to her.

"Oh thank you!" She beamed, "You are a kindly fellow!"

Rory grinned in return, "What should I do with you, thief?"

"L-let me go," He stuttered, bravely turning around and gazing into Rory's eyes.

Before Rory could make his decision he felt a rough hand upon his shoulder. Not taking his sword off the thief he turned around to face a man with a wide smile upon his face. "You will not let him go." He spoke, "I will deal with him."

"And who are you to make the decision?" Rory asked sceptically.

"I am Théodred, son of the king," He spoke bitterly. "I thank you for catching this thief. Are you from around these parts? I don't remember your face,"

"Actually, I just came here from Rivendell," Rory answered, watching as Théodred took the thief roughly and handed him to one of the armour clad men behind him. "My name is Rory,"

"Rivendell? You are no elf," Théodred stated,

"You are right in saying that," Rory smiled. "I am from Edinburgh...A far away land. I am travelling in search of my sister. I was forced to remain here after an accident with a group of orcs; I lost a foot you see."

"Ah? You run well for a man with only one-foot. I can scarcely imagine how fast you were with a pair," Théodred laughed. "I should like to get to know you, Perhaps you may tell me of this mysterious land of Edinburgh,"

Rory chuckled. "I'd like that,"

"You tell interesting stories Rory," Éomer laughed. "I have never met one so imaginative,"

"I'm telling you I speak not from imagination, but from truth!" Rory exclaimed studying both Théodred and Éomer intently. Their eyes widened in disbelief. Rory had been trying to explain the concept of the internet to them.

"This Edinburgh is a strange place indeed," Théodred added. "Now, enough of the stories. You say you search for your sister?"

"Yes, her name was Kyle, I lost here the day I arrived here," He shrugged, "I fear that I shall never see her again,"

"Do not give up hope so easily," Théodred sighed staring around the room "Hope gives us strength, those who deny themselves hope are weak,"

"I am not weak; did you not see me run?" Rory laughed meekly. "Besides, I have not given up hope completely, I still hold onto it. But I will not let it consume my life entirely."

Rory had liked The Shire and Rivendell, but he did not feel like he belonged there. Rivendell was too peaceful and to beautiful. The Shire, although homely it was, was simply too simple. Rohan on the other hand, was not perfect, nor was it too beautiful, it was not too simple, and it was not too homely. Rory had finally found a place where he belonged. A place he could call home.


	11. Comatose

**CHAPTER ELEVEN - COMATOSE**

_'The strongest must seek a way, say you? But I say: let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf, or over snow - an Elf.'_

_**K**__yle lay flat on the ground, her breathing struggled and her heartbeat barely existent. The flowers still hung from the vase, withering away into a poisonous gas that had quickly engulfed the room in a cloud of toxic smoke. Blood trickled from Kyle's mouth as all her organs began to fail one by one. The poison was working its way through her body, devouring and consuming her. It was a painful way to die, she could feel everything, but she could not move or speak. She could only think and hope, trapped in a lifeless body. She was dying._

Legolas carefully approached Kyle's door, he rapped harshly against the wooden surface. It was strange, he hardly ever knocked, but it was early, and he had decided it would be best to give her some warning before he entered. He waited for a moment and received no answer. He knocked harshly again. "Kyle, It's me Legolas," Again no answer.

_Kyle still lay. She heard Legolas. He had knocked. Why had he knocked? He never knocked. The one time she needed him not to knock he had knocked! If Kyle had not been in so much pain she might have laughed, instead she felt tears stream down her unmoving eyes whilst she hoped and prayed he would just enter. _

Legolas sighed. Perhaps she was still asleep; mortals did tend to sleep for longer. Legolas turned his back and walked away from the door. He would come back later. Just as he was about to leave he looked inside the window. A large puff of black smoke, he couldn't help but wonder if she was cooking again.

Initially this had made his more eager to leave. Kyle's cooking wasn't the best and Legolas had been subjected to it more times than he cared to recount. After some thought Legolas shook his head. He wanted to see Kyle regardless of her cooking. He opened the door without knocking and a foul stench blew up his nostrils.

Apparently Kyle's cooking had gotten even worse. Legolas covered his nose with his sleeves and blew the smoke away with his hand. It was then he saw her. Lying on the floor with blood trailing from her mouth. Kyle. She was still and unmoving. The first thought that entered Legolas's mind was that she had poisoned herself with her own cooking, but then he noticed the flowers withering and dying on the table and his heart took a leap. He should have known.

In the mortal tongue they were known as the "Beautiful death" The flowers were greatly feared. They were beautiful when they were alive, but over a short period of time they would decay and emit a poisonous gas which corrupted the insides. The flowers only existed deep within the forest of Mirkwood. Some were sold by travelling traders, whom his father frequently caught and sent to the dungeons for dealing such harmful poison.

Legolas flew to Kyle's side and scooped her up into his arms carefully. Her head fell against his chest and Legolas stared down at her carefully. Who could have done such a thing to her? What wrong had she committed against anyone? He ran a finger down her lifeless cheek before heading toward the door. She needed to see a healer quick.

"Will she be okay?" Legolas asked, panic sweltering through him.

"I don't know," The healer spoke gently. Legolas' heart thudded against his chest. He couldn't lose her, not so shortly after he had lost Santiel. He could not take another death. "She has been subjected to the gas for a long time, it has corrupted her lungs, and every breath she takes is a struggle. If she wakes from this coma...and I stress the if, she will still be very ill Legolas. She is mortal, her wounds do not heal like ours do. We can only hope that she is strong enough,"

Legolas absorbed everything healer had said. He wore a mask of indifference, but the healer could see through it. She carefully placed her hand on his shoulder. "Stay with her. It is not proven, but it is said that a friend's presence is beneficial,"

Legolas nodded sitting beside her and wrapping his hand around Kyle's. She was still warm; he could feel the blood flow through her. He was engulfed by a rage, a rage directed at whoever had done this. He could not think of one soul who had reason to harm Kyle. Except...Legolas took a deep breath. Thranduil.

The elvenking had been worried his son was growing too close to the mortal. Perhaps in his fear of losing his son, he had...decided that disposing the subject of Legolas's attention was the only option. Legolas shook his head. Surely not.

But it seemed the only viable option. Thranduil was the only person with a cause. Legolas shook his head fighting back tears.

"Excuse me, Healer... Va..." Legolas searched his mind for the healer's name.

"Vanya, I'm Santiel's daughter. Don't you remember me?" She chuckled, "It is such a shame about Kyle, Naneth thought a lot of her. Such a dreadful way to die, she has to have done something dreadful to deserve such a fate,"

"She is not dead yet, there is still hope," Legolas snapped. "I was wondering though. If you could fetch my adar? I don't want to leave Kyle and I wish for a word with him,"

"Of course," Vanya bowed gracefully before leaving the room.

Legolas brought his attention back onto Kyle. She looked so peaceful, the scars on her face prominent under sunlight. Legolas wondered what she would look like without them. It was hard to tell if she would be beautiful, the scars were such a large part of her face. The elven prince sighed. _She was still beautiful to him. _

The door creaked open and Thranduil entered. Legolas stared up at him, anger filling his eyes. He dropped Kyle's hand and flew towards the king. "You!"

"'Las, calm," Thranduil sighed, grasping his son's hands. "What has happened? Vanya told me that the mortal- I mean Kyle, is ill,"

"You would know all about it, it was you who did it to her!" Legolas yelled, "She's dying adar! You poisoned her!"

"I did no such thing Las, I do not dislike the girl, I have not a cause in the world to hurt her," Thranduil replied, "I know you care for her. I have no desire to cause you pain,"

"No, you saw that myself and her were becoming close...and you were worried that I was in love with her- So you...so you...disposed of her," He explained,

"If I was under the impression that you loved her 'Las. Then I certainly wouldn't kill her. You are the only thing left that I care for. You are my everything and to cause you pain is unthinkable, so why then would I kill someone who makes you happy?" Thranduil argued. "Sit, and think for a moment. It wasn't me,"

Legolas thought. Of course it wasn't Thranduil. He felt his father's hand upon his shoulder. "I'm sorry I blamed you Adar,"

"You need not apologise," The elvenking sighed. "Now, who could have done this?"

Legolas watched as his father sat by his side. Vanya entered and cast the pair a glance, her eyes focusing on Kyle. They narrowed, there was no empathy, nor any form of care in her eyes. They were void of emotion. Legolas carefully watched as Vanya circled the room and begun to work at a station, unenthusiastically.

"So soon after Santiel," Thranduil considered, "How bad is it?"

"It does not look good adar," Legolas grasped Kyle's hand once more, "The poison has corrupted her lungs, every breath she takes is a miracle. She showed me the flowers Adar. I should have recognised them...I could have...I could have saved her,"

"It is not your fault," The king sighed pulling his son into his arms like he had done when he was just a child. "It will all be fine. Weak she may seem, but she is strong to have lasted this long."

Vanya carefully made her way to Kyle's side and Thranduil watched her carefully. She knelt down and took the mortal's temperature; she read it with ease before fluttering back to the workstation. "Vanya?"

"Yes," She turned around,

"What is that poultice?" Thranduil questioned.

Santiel thought for a moment. "It's-"

"It smells a lot like Belladonna, and if I'm not mistaken, Belladonna is rather poisonous and should not be used to treat someone who is already in a weak state of health," Thranduil spoke harshly. Vanya bit her lip as Legolas stared up ather with wide angry eyes.

It was Vanya, the daughter of Santiel who had poisoned Kyle, but why?


	12. Heart of Fire

**Chapter Twelve  
Heart of Fire**

_'I serve only the Lord of the Mark, Theoden King, son of do not serve the Power of the Black Land far away, but neither are we yet in open war with him; and if you are fleeing from him, then you had best leave this land. There is trouble now on all our borders, and we are threatened; but we desire only to be free, and to live as we have lived, keeping our own, and serving no foreign lord, good or evil. We welcomed guests kindly in the better days, but in these times the unbidden stranger finds us swift and hard. Come! Who are you? Whom do you serve? At whose command do you hunt Orcs in our land?'_

Rory sat out in the training fields with Éomer and Théodred. The pair were in the process of teaching him how to use a sword. Although he was determined, Rory was not particularly talented with the weapon. After a while of training the pair had given up and now they all sat in a circle telling each other merry anecdotes. Rory let out a great sigh as Théodred's story drew to an end.

"What ails you my brother?" Éomer asked gently.

"Nothing much," Rory replied, Éomer and Théodred both raised their eyebrows in unison, beckoning Rory to continue. "I just feel rather hopeless. I cannot even hold a sword properly. What good am I?"

"Not every man is good with a sword. Some men like you are simply not made for such weapons. I see your build is slim; even with one foot you are fast and sly. You have the build of a good archer. Perhaps you ought to try a bow, or maybe even crossbow,"

Rory nodded half-heartedly. "I suppose I could try,"

Théodred smiled. "Why don't we give it a shot then? I'm not terrible with a bow I could teach you,"

Rory pulled himself to his feet and followed Théodred over to the targets. They were fairly large; it would be hard for him to miss. Théodred withdrew a mahogany bow and gently placed it in Rory's grip. The prince was about to explain how to use the weapon but before he had the chance, Rory had sent the arrow propelling through the air where it landed an inch or two away from the centre. Éomer's broke out in a grin.

"I was right brother! You are natural. Now once more, to prove it was not just beginners luck," He demanded. Rory nodded, once more pulling the arrow back and releasing it into the air. This time it landed in the centre. Théodred and Éomer clapped happily.

Rory turned to face them, but his gaze fell not on Éomer or Théodred, but on the woman standing behind them. She stood with a pot of stew tightly in her grasp, a warm smile was upon her fair face and her eyes were the brightest blue. She looked much like Éomer, but in a feminine and more delicate way. Rory realised that she must have been Eowyn, Eomer's sister.

A smile grew on Eomer's face. "Rory, you have not had the pleasure of meeting my sister. This is Eowyn. Eowyn, this is my good friend Rory. He is already a brother to me,"

"It is nice to meet you Rory, If you are my brother's brother, then that makes you mine," Eowyn chuckled, she did not curtsy like the other ladies of Rohan and Rory was thankful. "Nice shooting, you are very talented with the bow,"

"'Twas my first try with a bow," Rory grinned, pulling his stomach in to make himself look like less of a pig. "Beginners luck I'd say,"

"Or a natural," Eowyn smiled warmly. "Anyway, I thought I'd bring you boys some stew. Don't worry Éomer; it is not of my own cooking. I also thought that I could stay and maybe join you for some training,"

"No," Éomer and Théodred spoke in unison. "It is not the proper way for a lady to behave,"

"You know, where I come from women are looked upon as equals," Rory told Eowyn, "If you wish to train, then train. Do not let these sexist pigs stop you,"

"You insult me," Éomer hit Rory across the head, "She is my sister not yours, and if I am not mistaken, where you come from is a very different place. Thank you for the stew Eowyn, you may leave now,"

Eowyn took a deep bated breath "I'll see you around Rory,"

"I hope so," Rory whispered to himself in a quiet tone. Apparently he wasn't quiet enough as Éomer heard him and clobbered him over the head with the hilt of his sword.

"You should not encourage my sister Rory," Éomer sighed. "She is young, with a heart of fire. She believes she can do anything. Give her a weapon and she shall fight but the battleground is no place for a woman,"

Rory did not reply, he merely scraped his finger down the bow. "It is a fine bow" He spoke breaking the tension.

"It is yours. I have no need for it," Théodred sighed. "All I need is a sword, and two dozen orcs.

"Eowyn!" Rory called as he watched Eowyn walk down the corridor. She turned around and smiled "Fancy a walk?"

She nodded, and Rory felt his heart beat faster. Eowyn joined him and he offered her his arm, she of course declined. They walked down the corridors and out into a little garden. Rory was familiar with the garden, he had spent much of his time there, it was the perfect place to waste time. Rory found a little bench and the pair sat down.

"You have the strangest accent Rory; I have not heard it before, where are you from?"

"A place called Scotland,"

"Tell me of it," Eowyn pressed her eyes widening.

"It is a beautiful place, well...unless you're in Glasgow, then it isn't so beautiful, but on the whole it is a place with a rich culture," Rory chuckled. "The scenery is to die for, hills and grassy lands stretching a far as the eye can see. I miss it terribly,"

"I have never been far from home, my brother would not allow it," Eowyn smiled, "Scotland sounds beautiful however, perhaps one day I shall have the pleasure of visiting. I take it you have family there?"

"Parents and a sister. My mother and father are still there, But my sister well it's a long story, I'm sure if you ask Éomer he'll tell you the story himself. My sister is missing; she has been for a while now. I came here in search of her. It saddens me to say that I have given up on finding her, she could be anywhere in Middle earth and I cannot search the whole of this world with only one foot can I?"

"You should not give up hope," Eowyn spoke, "This world may seem large, but it is smaller than you would think. It is surprising what a determined heart can do,"

"Then I wish I had your heart Eowyn," Rory smiled, "For if I was like you then I'd have probably found her already."

Rory was never one to believe in love at first sight. To him (and to many others) it seemed like a soppy thing, something that only existed within the heads of besotted fan girls and tragedy loving playwrights. It was something that to Rory seemed utterly ridiculous. However, Eowyn and Rory, they seemed to fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Conversation flowed easy between them and Rory felt at ease in her company.

Rory thought for a moment. _If only she wasn't Eomer's sister._

**A/N**

Another short chapter. I thought I'd do the whole love at first sight thing for Rory; However the romance between them still isn't going to be all of a sudden. Rory may already be in love with her, but I don't think Eowyn would be the type to fall so quickly for a man so I'm going to draw the whole Eowry (Rowyn?) thing out like I'm doing with Lekyle (Kylegolas?) Anyway, hope you enjoyed my sort chapter.


	13. The Sacrifices Made

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN – THE SACRIFICES MADE  
**

"_All we have to decide, is what to do with the time that is given to us,"_

**K**yle took a deep breath as she opened her eyes. She had been sleeping for what felt like a millennia. The last thing she could remember was inhaling a toxic smoke and Legolas rapping on the door. She stared around and she groaned. She was in the Healer's room again. She pulled herself up and examined herself. Her skin had a blue-like tinge to it and her hair lay lank around her narrow shoulders. She felt as bad as she looked, she had a horrible migraine and her whole body seemed to ache with tiredness.

She propped herself up on the pillow and watched as the door quietly creaked open to reveal Legolas. He peeked his head cautiously through the crack and when he saw Kyle alive and conscious a wide smile appeared on his face. He flew toward her bedside. "You are awake!" He exclaimed. "I was worried you would never wake up!"

"I sort of wish I hadn't," Kyle yawned, laying her head down on the pillow. "The flowers they were..."

"Poisonous," Legolas spoke solemnly, finishing her sentence, "But you mustn't worry, we know who gave you the flowers, they will not harm you again,"

"Who?"

"Vanya," Legolas sighed deeply, capturing Kyle's hand. "She blames you for her mother's passing. She is merely a daughter lost in grief. She's just searching for someone to blame. As much as I hate her for what she did to you Kyle, I cannot bring myself to feel anything but pity for her, My adar has imprisoned her within the dungeons for the time being, till we work out how to punish her. It is not often we elves commit any punishable crimes he is quite unsure as to what to do,"

"Vanya! Santiel's daughter!" Kyle exclaimed, "Gosh...she was so nice,"

"She was a good actress," Legolas answered, "But do not worry for her, just focus on resting. You were on the brink of death. The poison rotted your insides, you are weak still,"

Kyle rested her head on the pillow. She did feel like sleeping again...She could feel her eyes grow heavy and her limbs go weak. Legolas chuckled and Kyle jerked upright. "I'm not tired,"

"Liars don't make good friends," Legolas quoted. He sighed to himself. "But if your not tired, then I could read to you?"

Kyle nodded, her eyes fluttering shut. "I'm just resting my eyes," She defended, restraining a yawn.

"Of course you are," The elven prince laughed and begun to read from memory. It was not long after Legolas had begun reading that Kyle begun to snore quietly signifying that she was asleep. Legolas chuckled to himself and fixed the sheets around Kyle, before leaving her to her sleep.

* * *

Kyle was finally beginning to feel better. Her tiredness however had been replaced by a crippling boredom. She was not allowed out of bed, nor was she allowed out of the room. Legolas had been by her bedside for the whole of two weeks, trying and failing to entertain her. Kyle's spirits had however been lifted, there was a very strong possibility of her finally being allowed home, that was of course, if the healer's deemed her fit enough.

The door opened and one of the healers entered. Kyle knew him to be Thalion. He like most elves was annoyingly perfect. Kyle had searched his face over and over, trying hard to find any small flaw; she had of course been unsuccessful. "Good morning Kyle," He spoke gently, setting his herbs and other healing equipment down on the table.

"Good morning," Kyle spoke carefully. Thalion wasted no time; he sat on her bedside and placed - what looked like - a thermometer in her mouth. He withdrew it and nodded carefully at it.

"You temperatures fine," He mused, "I'll just have to run some more tests if that's alright with you?"

Kyle nodded. However, as soon as she nodded her head, she instantly regretted it. Thalion drew blood; he had her lie down, only to sit back up again. He made her run to either side of the room and back again and do fifty sit ups within ten minutes. By the time he was finished she was utterly exhausted.

Thalion emerged from his workstation, Kyle could spy various bottles filled with different liquids on the counter. "What are those?"

"Ah, well those are various tests checking your longevity, fertility, etc." Thalion spoke lightly. "You passed your physical if that makes you feel any better, you do lack co-ordination but Legolas tells me that you were like that before you were poisoned. I am happy to inform you that your heart, lungs, and other major organs have been miraculously unaffected by the poison. You have been very lucky!"

"So I can go home!" Kyle grinned,

"Yes, but you must relax," Thalion ordered, "Otherwise you might end up back in here, and I don't think you'd like that very much,"

"No, I wouldn't,"

* * *

Kyle was back at home, she had never felt so glad to be in her own house. All traces of the deathly flowers were gone, and the whole place was just how she had left it. An organised mess. Legolas chuckled as he navigated his way to the settee. "You really must tidy up around here,"

"No, If I tidy, then I'll lose everything," Kyle rested against the wall. "Do you want something to drink, or eat? I could cook,"

"Sit down you idiotic little mortal," Legolas laughed, "You are supposed to be ill, which means, it is I, who is to look after you, do you want a glass of water? I could roast you some meat over the fire?"

Kyle plopped down on the seat and shook her head lightly. "I'm fine thanks. You can get going if you'd like,"

"Thalion thinks it would be best if I stay the night. Just to make sure you are well," Legolas mused, "That's if you'll have me,"

Kyle's cheeks burned red. If she said no, she would sound like she did not want his company, but if she said yes; she would seem overly eager and clingy. Kyle smiled. "Well I only have one bed, and you're not sharing it with me. So I guess I'll have to take the floor,"

Legolas rolled his eyes like he was two, even though he was closer to the two-thousand mark. "Don't be ridiculous, I'll take the floor,"  
He laughed to himself, his gaze fixing on Kyle's face. There was doubt in her wide-blue eyes. "Are you alright Kyle?"

"I'm okay, I suppose," The mortal murmured. "It's just, I can't help thinking that Vanya was right. It was my fault about Santiel,"

"It wasn't," Legolas breathed. "If you had stayed the pair of you would have died. There was nothing you could have done. Santiel knew that it would be impossible to outrun the spiders without some kind of distraction. That is why she stayed and fought. She knew that in her death, you could have life. It was her sacrifice to make; she would not have you blame yourself for it,"

Kyle sighed deeply. "I miss her," She felt tears fall from her eyes. "Like I miss Rory, and Mum and Dad."

* * *

**A/N**

⁞ **I feel like every chapter gets shorter! The next chapter is set one year ahead, just to move things on a bit. I don't want to do too much time-jump so this will be the last. I don't know if anyone's getting tired of it switching around from Rory to Kyle. If you have any opinions just review ⁞ **

⁞ **Also, if anyone has any ideas for mini plotlines for either Rory or Kyle then I'm interested to hear (read) them. I have a lot of ideas but I often think it's good to get ideas from your readers I will of course give you credit if I end up using it. So if you have any ideas or suggestions just review away ⁞**


	14. AUTHOR

A/N

I've hit a standstill with this story! I'm sorry. I really didn't want to abandon it. I hate abandoning things, but reading back the writing is pretty poor and I know that I can do so much better.

So, I've decided that I will do much better. I sort of liked the whole plotline of a brother and sister being torn apart so I've decided to rewrite the story completely and give it a little spruce up. The characters will be mainly the same with the addition of two other main characters.

Anyway, I shall only upload this story when I'm absolutely sure I can finish it.

Again, really really sorry. As for anyone who reads my other story "The Blessing of Death" uploads are coming, just been really, really busy and haven't found the time to upload. Again, so sorry for abandoning this story!.

If you want to read my other story, it's name shall be "The Golden Days"


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